Virus
by Burning 'Til There's Dark Blue
Summary: A deadly virus runs rampant through Washington D.C., causing psychopathic behavior and paranoia, eventually leading to death. With everything beginning to fall apart, Ziva realizes almost too late what is happening. Dedicated to Kaitlin.
1. Virus

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Not even the prompt that Kate gave me.

**Kate's Prompt: **Girl likes a guy but he disappears one day. She goes to visit him to see what's wrong only to find evidence that he plans to kill her.

So here you are, Kate.

*~*~*

_Disease is the retribution of outraged Nature. – _Hosea Ballou

*~*~*

The building was silent; the only noise the quiet humming of the various computers in the room. Early morning sunlight poured into the building, casting long shadows across the floor. And then, footsteps echoed through the room.

The two walked in, not speaking, their eyes focused emptily on their desks. They were an odd pair, to say the least. The man was at least 6 feet tall, with short, light brown hair and greenish-blue eyes. The woman was several inches shorter than the man, with olive-toned skin, long, wavy dark brown hair and wide brown eyes. They walked next to each other, tension between them undeniably worrisome.

They sat down, still silent, and immediately set to work, an awkward silence filling the air. Computers hummed to life, lighting up the room with even more strangely tinted lights.

She looked at the man out of the corner of her eye, watching him with an expression of longing and tension, fearing that there was something wrong with him, the same blank look having been on his face for days now. He took no notice of her, staring at his computer blankly, his eyes glazed. She knew something was wrong, but didn't make any mention of it.

He had been normal up until a week ago, when he suddenly ceased talking except for an occasional factual statement. He had gone to the crime scene they were working, walked into the building, and then to everyone's shock, his face went blank, zombielike, an unidentifiable glint in his eyes.

She wanted to say that she was worried, that he was scaring her, that he needed to go to the doctor, but she said nothing. He could take care of himself. Odd scenarios were running through her mind; lists of diseases and chemicals that could cause such a change in mentality. But so far, she had nothing that fit the bill.

But something was wrong, and she planned on finding out what.

*~*~*

He disappeared. Slowly but surely, he came to work later and left earlier each day, never saying why, until one day he didn't show up. She said nothing, but when a week passed and nothing happened she decided to go to his apartment to check on him, worried that he was sick or dead or…she had read too many horror stories.

At 5 she walked out of the building and to her car, looking over her shoulder, feeling strangely paranoid, suddenly worried that she was being watched. It was an oddly foreboding feeling that she had only had a few times before, always before something happened, but nothing that had directly affected her. She shrugged it off and got into her car.

The streets seemed empty, despite the fact that it should be rush hour. The few people she saw had either her own worried look or the all-too-familiar blank stare. Fearing that something had happened, an outbreak of a rare disease or a bio-weapon, she turned on the radio. All she could get was static, the occasional song, but no news. Something was definitely wrong.

She pulled up in front of his apartment, putting her hand on her waist to make sure that she still had her gun, though she knew she probably wouldn't need it, and got out of the car. Looking around, she could see no one, just a piece of paper blowing down the road. Sighing, she walked towards the building and ascended the stairs, keeping an eye out for anything unusual. Other than the fact that she seemed to be the only living person who hadn't become totally emotionless, nothing seemed off.

His door was open. Out of habit, she entered with her gun aimed in front of her. The apartment was devoid of all life. The only thing she saw was unnaturally clean furniture and piles upon piles of DVDs, Blu-Ray disks, and VHS tapes, not to mention the widescreen HDTV. Typical. She lowered the gun, looking around for any sign of life. The only thing she saw was a trail of ants, walking in military-style lines, in a strange rhythm. Worried about the insects' behavior, she followed the trail to the kitchen to find the ants turning around in a centered spiral, making her dizzy as they walked around in the tight little circles.

Concerned now that everyone and everything but her had gone insane, she backed slowly out of the kitchen with her back against the wall. Slowly, she made her way down the hallway and to the bedroom, where she found even more signs of anomalous behavior; the bed made neatly, the lamp on the nightstand perfectly centered, not a speck of dust, the Uzi laying on the desk, perfectly clean.

She jumped as she saw the semi-automatic, staring at the black metal in panic. She hadn't made him out to be the type to have anything other than a Heckler & Koch P7. Now deeply concerned for her friend's and the world's mentality, she walked towards the desk, looking for anything unusual, barring the machine gun.

There was a photo of her on the desk, one she did not remember being taken, of her sitting on her living room couch, reading, obviously having been taken outside. Disconcerted, she picked up the photo and turned it over to see machine-like handwriting that caused her to drop the photo and jump back in fear.

"_I will kill her."_

Now completely panicked, she turned and ran out of the apartment, down the stairs and straight to the car. She jumped into the driver's seat and pulled the car recklessly out of the parking space, then floored it, driving towards the interstate. As she pulled onto I-95, she realized with fear that there was nobody there.

She had to get away from the city.

*~*~*

Death Valley is too dry and too hot in the summer for viruses. On average during May thru August, it can get into the triple digits, on average past 120° F. As she sat in the boiling hotel room, it was 124° F; in her own room, the much cooler temperature of 87° F. The cable was mediocre, but she had still been able to get a news channel, which told her all that she needed to know. Sitting on the bed, watching the tanned California news reporter, she realized that she had made the right choice in driving to the hottest and driest place in the entire United States.

"_In other news, 44 states have now been affected by this disease, including the coast of California itself. The places that have yet to be affected are Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico, Hawaii, Alaska, Utah, eastern California, western Texas, northern Montana, the Wyoming and Colorado Rockies, and the Florida Everglades. The virus cannot withstand extreme temperatures, and therefore all people unaffected are advised to evacuate to one of the clear regions. The virus causes sociopathic behavior, madness, and lack of emotions, and will cause death if the affected person does not have natural immunity. Strangely, the unaffected groups in the diseased regions all appear to be of Middle Eastern, African, Latin American, Mediterranean, and Eastern European descent. It appears that those who have grown up in regions with extreme temperatures and countries with higher rates of diseases such as Melioidosis and Leishmaniasis, for some reason, are completely unaffected due to what appears to be a natural immunity. All those who are unaffected are advised to stay in the disease-free locations until the CDC has cleared the rest of the country."_

She turned off the TV, having heard enough. So all her friends were going to die. What was she going to do without all of them?

Her cell phone rang, signaling a text message, and she jumped back, nearly screaming. Recovering quickly, she checked the caller ID, and a sense of relief flowed through her. She opened her phone to check the message.

_We're alive. Currently in Las Vegas. Contact us once you're in the clear._

She smiled, and then turned on the record button on her cell phone.

"My name is Ziva David," she said, calmly. "Three days ago I evacuated from Washington D.C. due to an outbreak of an unidentified disease. As far as I know, the first one who I know was affected, Anthony DiNozzo, has already died from the disease. My other friends appear to have evacuated in time. The date is July 12th, 2012. The time right now is 1304, PST. Everyone else that I know appears to have survived. Two minutes ago I received a text from the only survivor I know of, Abigail Scuito." She finished recording and placed the phone back in her purse.

And then she fell back onto the bed, sobbing.

She could never tell Tony what she felt about him.

*~*~*

**A/N: **And there you have it. Happy late birthday, Kailtin.


	2. Outbreak

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything.

*~*~*

_You're so contagious_

_Running through my veins_

_You're so contagious_

_Holding onto every word_

_You're so contagious_

_And I can't get away_

_You're so contagious_

_And now I know for sure_

_There is no cure_

_Contagious – Trapt_

*~*~*

Death Valley was considerably far away from Las Vegas, at 150 miles. Nevertheless, Ziva drove down the barren streets, a blue surgical mask covering half of her face. The outbreak of disease approximately two weeks ago had prompted everyone unaffected, diseased states or not, to wear the masks to prevent contracting the disease.

It was approximately 2030 PST, the sun settling behind the mountains, casting shadows. Ziva tapped her fingers nervously on the dashboard, looking every few minutes at the piece of paper where she had written down the address where, as far as she knew, her only surviving friend was staying. As to how Abby hadn't contracted the disease, Ziva was unsure, but as long as someone was alive.

There was no one else on the barren stretch of highway running through the desert, which considering the circumstances was to be expected. Despite the fact that she was driving well over the speed limit, Ziva had not seen a single patrol car. Due to this fact, she was a little over 20 miles away from the address.

She really hoped that Abby was okay. She had already lost one person to the disease. She couldn't lose anyone else.

*~*~*

The streets of Las Vegas, normally filled with out-of-town gamblers and tourists, were nearly as barren as the interstate. Ziva pulled up in front of a hotel, parking illegally in front of a red curb, and got out of the car, looking at the address. Room 113. Sighing, she walked up to the door and knocked twice.

Abby opened the door cautiously, then relaxed when she saw Ziva.

"You made it! I was getting worried. But I thought you weren't going to be here for another hour." The normally hyper forensic scientist said. Ziva smiled.

"There were no cars." She explained. Abby laughed and pulled Ziva into the room. "Is anyone else here?"

"McGee and Gibbs and Ducky and Palmer." Abby rattled off. "I don't really know how all 6 of us are going to fit into one room, but we are. You're lucky you left D.C. when you did. It was absolute chaos by the time we left, and that was only a few hours after you."

"How is Tony?" Ziva asked, concerned still for her best friend's life. Abby looked at the floor.

"We haven't seen him. I don't know if he's still alive, Ziva. I'm sorry." Ziva bit her lip, fighting back the tears. Then she noticed something.

"Where _is _everybody?" she asked.

"At the supermarket, buying as much food as possible. We don't know how long we're going to be here."

Ziva sighed and walked over to the bed, sitting down and putting her head in her hands. This was not how she pictured things to turn out. It should have just been the flu. Some tiny little bug that couldn't cause any trouble. She didn't realize how bad the disease was.

"What are they saying the disease is back in Washington?" she finally asked, her head still in her hands. Abby shrugged.

"Different things. The CDC is saying that it's a mutation of Variola Major."

Ziva stared blankly.

"Smallpox…?" Abby tried to explain.

"Oh…but that hasn't been around in decades."

"I know. That's why it's weird. And the conspiracy theorists say that it's anthrax, mad cow disease, the bubonic plague. Anything to send people into a complete panic."

"What do you think it is?"

"Well… ever seen the movie _I Am Legend?"_

"No, but I read the book."

"That's what I think it is."

"Vampire zombies?"

"Something like that. Or an experiment gone wrong."

"Such as?"

"You know how some scientists think they can cure things by altering the genetic makeup of certain viruses?"

"Ah… No."

"Well, maybe they were trying to alter a virus in order to cure another disease, and something went wrong and the virus didn't turn out the way they thought, and it escaped and quickly spread around the world."

"Or maybe it is a disease that used to only affect animals but mutated to affect humans."

"…"

"It seems logical to me."

"A virus affecting a virus affecting another virus. It's an endless wormhole of deadly diseases contracting deadlier diseases and mutating into a superbug."

"Maybe it is."

"Good think the stores were selling surgical masks."

"I think biohazard suits would be more effective."

"Where are we going to get biohazard suits?"

"The CDC here in Las Vegas."

"…"

Someone else knocked on the door and Ziva instinctively aimed her gun at the door. Abby sighed and opened the door to reveal the four others, who jumped at the sight of the startled Ziva, who was still holding her gun. Everyone was silent, looking at each other. Gibbs finally broke the silence.

"It's officially an outbreak. 250 million people are affected in the U.S. alone. At least 30 million are mildly affected and 20 million are unaffected. Or at least that's what the radio said."

"You are still getting radio?" Ziva asked, surprised.

"Yeah, why?"

"The entire time I was driving here I was only getting interference."

"That's because all the people running the stations have contracted the disease. In Vegas, we're getting the CDC's recording and nothing else. It was officially declared an outbreak 68 hours ago, 4 hours after you vanished off the face of the earth."

"So in summary, we are all in trouble, yes?"

"Yep."

"Damn… and I do not remember whether I turned off the TV."

*~*~*

Tony DiNozzo stared at his reflection in the mirror, his green-blue eyes bloodshot. He couldn't breathe anymore; every breath was a struggle. His pulse raced, 150/90. Panicked, he stared at his hands, the red blisters already taking over.

He hoped that Ziva had managed to get away in time.

He couldn't hurt her.

*~*~*

**A/N**: Your favorite Emo pianist has returned! Ha. Anyway, I'm not exactly a pianist yet because I just decided to take lessons. So yeah. There's going to be one more story and then I'm with this little plotline.


	3. Suffer

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

_If you want more of this _

_We can push out, sell out, die out _

_So you'll shut up _

_And stay sleeping _

_With my screaming in your itching ears._

_I'm So Sick – Flyleaf_

*~*~*

Tony sat on the floor of his apartment, his breathing ragged. The disease was slowly, painfully running its course on his body. He leaned against the wall, wishing that he hadn't gone into that stupid chemical lab. With the first breath of the acrid air, he had realized something was wrong about the building, and then he fell into a state of shock, unable to control his actions. Just go to work, every day, until it becomes too much…and then there was what he had done to Ziva. Whatever the disease was, it had possessed him to turn into a homicidal maniac, focusing his rage on the Mossad assassin, who, luckily, seemed to have escaped in time.

And then the suffering came. Insomnia, coupled with nyctalopia, better known as night blindness. He could only lie in his room for hours, staring at the ceiling, unable to tell where he was.

Then came the fever, ridiculously high at 103°, his normal temperature being lower than most at 96°. It had gotten so unbearable that he ended up in his bathroom, with the air conditioning turned up at full blast and a freezing cold shower running. All that had done was give him a cold, which he suspected had progressed to bronchopneumonia.

His breathing was getting worse. He was unable to take a deep breath, unable to walk more than a few steps before having to rest. With the lack of oxygen in his bloodstream, his heart rate had increased significantly in order to make up for it. His racing heartbeat was causing his skin to be flushed red, his already bloodshot eyes to become even redder.

The fever and the disease were causing his hands to blister. His palms had started out looking sunburned, slowly progressing from his fingertips and down his hands. After a few hours, the rash had progressed to what he thought were heat blisters, causing agony if he so much as tried to pick up a glass of water.

He needed a cure, soon.

Tony had learned rather quickly that Tylenol was not going to do the trick. Nor any cold medicines. At a complete loss, he had gone through his closet looking for the medicines he had taken after his mild bout with the pneumonic plague. Now, sitting at the door to his bedroom, holding the old bottle of medication, he prayed that the meds would work.

*~*~*

"80 million dead." Gibbs reported, walking into the hotel room. The 5 people still in the room stared in shock. "Even more are expected to die later today." Abby looked pained, and Ziva looked at the back of her hands blankly, muttering – praying – in Hebrew.

"Anybody in Las Vegas?" McGee asked, breaking the stunned silence.

"A few thousand. All from out of state."

"So by tomorrow, only a tenth of the country's population is going to be alive?"

"It's a pandemic. Think a tenth of the world's population."

Tony's name made it's way into Ziva's prayer.

*~*~*

Tony stood up weakly, the medicine finally taking effect. He coughed twice, then gritted his teeth. Slowly, he made his way to the bathroom, to the mirror, and looked at his reflection.

His eyes were focused again, his skin slowly fading back from the red sunburn-like tone it had been a few hours earlier. If this kept up, he would be healthy in only a few hours.

And then he could find Ziva.

His debilitated state made it nearly impossible to move, but somehow he made his way back to the living room. He picked up the cell phone on the counter and began dialing a much-used number, his hands shaking.

The phone on the other line rang once and Tony smiled.

*~*~*

Ziva screamed when her phone rang, jumping out of her chair. After calming down slightly, she answered the phone with shaking hands, not bothering to look at the caller ID.

"Shalom." She said, the surprise in her voice evident.

"_Ziva." _The voice on the other end was weak, dehydrated. Ziva's eyes went wide once she recognized it.

"Tony?" she asked, frightened and upset.

"_Yes." _The voice on the other end half-whispered, then coughed several times before speaking again. _"Listen to me. I'm at home. I'm alive. I'm taking the medicine from when I had the plague. It's working."_

"Are you sure?" she asked, a single tear falling down her face.

"_Yes. I'm going to wait until I know that I won't go into a coughing fit every five minutes, and then I'm going to go out to wherever you are."_

"Get well, Anthony." she whispered, subconsciously switching to his first name.

"_Ti __amo__, Ziva." _He said quietly. _"__Ricordimi__."_

"Sempre e per sempre. Ti amo." She replied, switching into Italian as well. "Shalom."

The phone went dead and Ziva fell to her knees, finally allowing herself to cry.

*~*~*

Tony stared at his reflection, seeing for once through the façade. He could see himself from only a few years ago, having recently recovered from his bout with the plague, the same weak breathing.

Was that what this was? That would explain why the medicines were helping.

But how the hell did he contract the plague _again?_

*~*~*

"You okay, Ziver?" Gibbs asked, sitting down next to the now-sobbing assassin.

"That was Tony." She gasped between sobs, her palms pressed to her eyes. "He's alive."

*~*~*

**A/N: **I lied. There's going to be another chapter. Hope you liked this. I'm such a dork when it comes to all the medical stuff. Even I don't know how I know it.

I'd also like to say that I'm probably the only person who can write a horror story while listening to Black Eyed Peas.

Emo pianist out.


	4. Cure

**Disclaimer**: Nope. Don't own anything.

*~*~*

_Be, be strong_

_Keep telling myself it that won't take long till_

_I'm free of my disease_

_Yeah well free of my disease_

_Free of my disease._

_Disease – matchbox twenty_

*~*~*

Tony stared at the clock, waiting. One more hour, he told himself, one more hour and he could leave the city. With shaking hands, he picked up the surgical mask, mandatory for anyone who wanted to leave, and put it on. His hands were still blistered, and they looked like they would scar. But scars were better than dying.

He walked into the kitchen, to his refrigerator, and pulled out bottled water, wincing when the plastic touched the raw skin on his hands. The water supply was probably contaminated, and he wasn't going to boil any water just to get a drink.

The water was cold, and it woke him up. His throat ached from the lack of water, and in seconds he drank the entire bottle.

Placing the now-empty bottle down with shaking hands, he took one more look at his reflection in the stainless steel refrigerator. His face was still pallid, but better than it had been.

He could finally see Ziva again.

Shaking, he put the surgical mask on and made his way downstairs, weakly, and straight to his car. Tony was unsure if he would be able to drive in his condition, but he was not going to stay in the death trap that D.C. had turned into.

The car's engine turned on quickly and he slammed the door, rolling up the windows and turning the AC on its lowest setting.

"I'll find you, Ziva." He whispered, his voice hoarse.

*~*~*

Ziva stared out the hotel window at the darkening sky, watching as the clouds lost their color and the city lit up like fireworks, illuminating the horizon. Even at the prospect of the apocalypse, there were still gamblers.

The others watched her from across the room, concerned. She had barely moved all day, and the fact that she hadn't eaten or drank anything since the phone call was concerning them even more.

Ziva was a patient person. She could wait until later to eat. There were more important subjects on her mind.

The AC hummed to life outside, filling the room with warm air. The room's occupants shuddered, having gotten used to the 100° temperature inside the hotel. A subconscious fear that the virus could get inside the room came to life. Abby stood up and walked towards the radiator, then turned it off. In moments, the room returned to the boiling temperature it had been all day.

*~*~*

Tony drove past miles of desert, staring at the faint light on the horizon that he knew was the city of Las Vegas. He knew that was where Ziva was.

Sometimes apologies were a sign of strength, not of weakness.

*~*~*

In an airtight steel bunker, somewhere in Atlanta, the men in the biohazard suits worked frantically to identify the disease that was killing the entire world.

And then, in a moment of curiosity, one of the men put the slide back under the microscope, looking at it one more time.

"_Yersinia pestis_." The man stated calmly. "Septicemic."

"That explains it all, doesn't it?" Another man asked, equally calm. The first man nodded. "But how are we going to tell the entire world that there's been an outbreak of the plague?"

"Carefully. Very carefully."

*~*~*

Gibbs turned on the television and switched it to the news station, looking once more at Ziva, concerned.

*~*~*

The blonde, 40-something news reporter stared at the teleprompter in surprise, but regained her composure as the cameraman counted down. _5-4-3-2-1._

"Good evening, Las Vegas. I'm Melissa Collodi, coming to you live with breaking news. The CDC has just released a statement saying that they have discovered what the disease that has spread to unforeseen numbers is. The name of the bacterium is _Yersinia pestis, _and has been identified as Septicemic plague. The symptoms of this strain of the disease are hypotension, hepatosplenomegaly – the enlargement of the spleen and liver, delirium, seizures in children, shock, a lack of energy, fever, and occasionally symptoms of the Bubonic and Pneumonic strains of the disease. All individuals affected by the disease are advised if not ordered to report to their local hospitals to receive treatment for the disease. In other news…"

*~*~*

Tony almost laughed when he heard the report on the radio. No wonder the medications worked. Everything made sense when he thought about it again, though the bronchopneumonia had probably complicated the disease even more.

It was strange the way things worked.

*~*~*

Ziva had almost fallen asleep when the 1969 Ford Mustang pulled up outside of the hotel. She looked up as the headlights filled the room. She stood up carefully, watching the car in concern.

The door opened, and a very weak looking Tony got out of the car, holding onto the door for support. Ziva's face lit up with newfound hope. Frantically, she pulled on her surgical mask and ran out of the room, straight into Tony's arms, laughing and sobbing. The others followed her out of the room, confused.

"I thought I had lost you." Ziva whispered into Tony's shirt, crying.

"I'm sorry." Tony whispered back.

Ziva just cried harder.

"_Sempre__ e per __sempre__."_

*~*~*

At 20:30 Las Vegas time, 250 million people in the U.S. alone had died from the disease.

The 30 million who had been affected who were able to get treatment in time, for the most part, lived.

Around the world, over 5.5 billion people had died from the disease. 1 billion others were able to get treatment in time.

In only five days, the Earth's population was reduced to 1.5 billion, as many people as had been in India and China only days earlier.

All 7 people who had been standing outside that tiny hotel room were able to return to Washington D.C. in only a matter of days. NCIS was reestablished, albeit much smaller than before, and in a few weeks the cases started to return.

A month after the pandemic, Tony proposed to Ziva.

She said yes.

*~*~*

_I am burning in your fire_

_(There's no cure)_

_I have only one desire_

_(There's no cure)_

_Now I don't know what to do with myself_

_Do with myself_

_(I can not deny her)_

_(There's no cure)_

_Now I don't know what to do with myself_

_Do with myself_

_I don't want nobody else._

_Contagious – Trapt_

*~*~*

**A/N:** That was fun to write! Though I think that I read too much of _I Am Legend, _and I think that I based a little too much off of _Alien, _I think I did pretty good! What do you guys think? Should I write an epilogue, or what? Anyway, I kept looking up a ridiculous amount of information on the septicemic plague. And I now know way too much about it. Medical dork, remember?

Emo pianist out!


	5. Recovery

**Disclaimer: **I still don't own anything.

*~*~*

_I got tired of waiting_

_Wondering if you were ever coming around_

_My faith in you is fading_

_When I met you on the outskirts of town, and I said_

_Romeo save me I've been feeling so alone_

_I keep waiting for you but you never come_

_Is this in my head? I don't know what to think_

_He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring_

_Love Story – Taylor Swift_

*~*~*

_1 Year Later…_

*~*~*

Ziva leaned against the balcony into the wind, looking at the sunset that was backlighting Washington D.C. The city seemed quiet without a million people running around everywhere. Even New York City had turned into a small town.

The door opened and Tony walked out of the living room to stand next to her. They were both silent, Ziva playing with the rings on her finger, Tony studying the scars on his hands. There was no need for conversation; the two of them didn't need to talk to know what the other was thinking.

Regardless, Ziva broke the silence.

"The city looks so different without all the people." She muttered, looking at the Capitol building, backlit with rose-tinged light. "But I suppose that everywhere looks different."

"You're right." Tony answered, wrapping an arm around her waist. "But there's more privacy now." Ziva laughed, smiling widely.

"You always say that, even at work! What is wrong with you?" she retorted playfully. Tony shrugged.

"I've contracted a deadly disease twice, among other things."

"That's no excuse."

"Sure it is!"

Ziva laughed again and looked once more at the city.

"It seems so strange, having only a few people in the world. It reminds me of history class, when we talked about Medieval history." She said, leaning against the railing. "When the world population was only about as much as it is now."

"Modern history." Tony added. "And in 700 years, the kids in junior high are gonna be reading about the outbreak of plague that destroyed the U.S. and most of the world."

"We will recover. We always have." Ziva predicted. Tony pulled her back from the railing, wrapping his hands around her waist, subconsciously rubbing her abdomen. Ziva was five months along in her pregnancy, and everyone seemed to be teasing her about it, though she knew that they were all excited. "And the world will be rebuilt. Slowly but surely."

Tony smiled at her, then looked out at the city again.

"How many languages do you think are dead now?" he asked. Ziva looked at him, confused.

"Languages cannot die. They do not live." She said matter-of-factly. Tony laughed.

"I meant how many languages aren't spoken anymore?"

"I can name ten that are still spoken by at least one or two people; English, Hebrew, Spanish, French, Italian, Turkish, Russian, Arabic, German, and ASL."

"That's because those are ten of the most important languages in the world."

"There are other important languages."

"Name one."

"Greek and Latin."

"That's two, Ziva."

"And they are both important, yes?"

"Touché."

Ziva laughed again, her smile wider than she had thought it could be.

"So the world has ended?" she asked.

"I wouldn't say it ended."

"Most of the world died. I think that it could count as an apocalypse."

"This is the way the world ends – not with a shout, but with a whisper." Tony quoted, calmly.

"Where did you get that from?" Ziva looked up at him, curious.

"T.S. Eliot."

"Who?"

"A poet. He was famous during the early 20th century."

"Since when do you read poetry?"

"It was in another book."

"Since when do you read _anything?" _

"It was a horror story."

Ziva hit Tony in the chest, unable to think of anything else to say. He simply pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head.

"Is it a bad thing that we are laughing after all of this?" Ziva asked, gesturing towards the skyline.

"Nope." Tony replied, after thinking for a second. "Laughter is how we heal."

The two of them sat down on the porch chairs, watching the sun sink below the horizon, illuminating the skyline once more before the darkness brought on from the sunset faded into a deeper blue, then to black. The stars slowly came out, one by one. Constellations that could have never been seen with the light pollution filled the summer sky.

"This is the way the world ends?" Ziva asked. Tony nodded. "I like this ending."

"Not exactly a fairytale ending."

"Is anything a fairytale ending?"

"Only in stories."

The air outside began to cool significantly. Tony took Ziva's hand and led her inside, spinning her around once to the music playing softly on the stereo.

"Why are you listening to Taylor Swift?" Tony shrugged, unable to think of an answer. Ziva laughed again and they began to dance around the living room.

"Maybe because she's a good singer."

"She sings songs meant for teenage girls, Tony."

"Are you saying that I'm a teenage girl?"

"Possibly."

"You worry me."

"I worry everyone."

"That is true." Tony spun her around once more and she fell back into his arms, both of them laughing at the immaturity of it all.

"Something's seriously wrong with us. We're dancing to Taylor Swift." Tony told her, turning her around so that they could continue to dance.

"There are worse songs that we could be listening to."

"Probably."

*~*~*

Abby stood in her empty lab, looking around at her army of computers. She knew that no amount of computers was going to make up for all that she had lost a year ago, but it was better than nothing.

Someone walked in and she spun around instinctively, not knowing who it was. McGee stood at the entrance to her lab, a mixture of concern and confusion on his face.

"You okay?" He asked, his voice full of consternation. Abby shrugged.

"It just seems so…_empty." _She said, looking around the lab. "It's weird."

"I'm here." McGee said, his voice surprisingly calm.

"You _are_ here." She said. "I don't know why I can't see anybody here anymore. It just seems like I'm alone."

"Well, you kind of are."

Abby looked at McGee, trying to find a hidden meaning in his words. Finding none, she walked over and hugged him. He winced at the sudden crushing pressure on his lungs.

"Abby…ribcage….can't…breathe." he gasped. The forensic scientist reluctantly let go.

"You need to get used to not breathing." She stated. McGee just laughed.

"That's not something you can get used to, Abby."

*~*~*

Tony and Ziva fell back onto the couch, exhausted after the dancing, still laughing hysterically at jokes that weren't there.

"This is how it's going to be now, isn't it?" Tony asked.

Ziva didn't answer.

She had fallen asleep in his arms.

*~*~*

_I'm alone, on my own, and that's all I know  
_

_Oh, I'll be strong, I'll be wrong, oh but life goes on  
_

_Oh, I'm alone, on my own, and that's all I know  
_

_Oh, I'm just a girl, trying to find a place in this world._

_A Place In This World – Taylor Swift_

*~*~*

**A/N: **And… I'm DONE! Yay for me! I hope you liked my rather eccentric music choices. I'm probably the only person with Trapt, Flyleaf, matchbox twenty, and Taylor Swift, among others, on my iPod. But I hope you liked this!

Emo pianist out.


End file.
